


Quail's Eggs

by spire_cx



Category: Eungdabhara 1997 | Answer Me 1997
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spire_cx/pseuds/spire_cx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when Joonhee is alone, he lets himself take things further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quail's Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> very very minor and insignificant spoilers for a scene in episode 12.

In reality, Yoonjae whispers in his ear, tells him not to break the eggs, and leaves. But later that night, when Joonhee is alone, it goes further.

He feels bad about it. He always feels bad about it, before and after and during, because Yoonjae is a person and not a plaything, and it feels wrong to treat him like one, even if he's only playing in his mind.

But when he tries to think about someone nameless and faceless they always end up sounding and feeling like Yoonjae. And when he tries to stop altogether he just ends up dreaming, and that pain is much worse than the guilt of the fantasies.

So when he's alone, he lets things go further.

Usually it starts off normal—if fantasizing about your best friend jerking off can be considered normal. It's not, Joonhee knows, but it feels more normal, or more acceptable at least, because it's something Yoonjae actually does. Joonhee's not playing with him; he's just being a theoretical fly on the wall. Right?

So it starts off normal. But then Joonhee walks in on him, and Yoonjae doesn't stop: just opens his eyes and looks at him and lets Joonhee step inside and close the door behind him. Or Yoonjae invites him to watch the new tape he got from Hakchan and five minutes in he slips his hand down his sweatpants and when he catches Joonhee staring he only narrows his dark eyes and asks if Joonhee wants to touch him.

It progresses from there.

But there's no believable what-if lead-up to this fantasy, and just that fact alone makes Joonhee's cheeks burn bright and hot. It makes him feel dirty, but at night, when he's alone and Yoonjae whispers in his ear, it's not about eggs.

When he's alone, Yoonjae tells him he wants him: that he's so sexy and such a fucking tease and he needs him right now. He slides his hand around Joonhee's waist and puts his hand under the loose waistband of his jeans and tells him he wants to fuck him senseless.

His erection presses against the back of Joonhee's thigh. Joonhee puts the top back on the pot and his headphones back on the counter.

The details don't matter. Maybe they kiss; maybe Yoonjae squeezes Joonhee's cock through his pants. It doesn't matter; those thoughts are for daydreams. Tonight, in the end, Yoonjae turns him around and bends him over the microwave. He pulls his jeans down to his ankles. He unzips his pants and pulls out his cock and rubs it against the back of Joonhee's balls.

Joonhee spends a while on this particular point: the feeling of Yoonjae's cock, long and hard, pushing insistently against his body. At night, when Joonhee is alone, Yoonjae likes to tease him. He likes to build up to it, likes to grind against Joonhee's hole until they're both panting and groaning and gasping. He does it until he's ready to explode: "I'm so close," he says, and Joonhee has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming.

At night, when he's alone, Joonhee doesn't even care that behind them the burner is still on. Yoonjae is rubbing sesame oil over his cock, and Joonhee's heart is pounding. He wriggles a little, and looks over his shoulder, and tells Yoonjae to hurry up—that he wants to feel him come inside him.

It's easy to imagine what it feels like when Yoonjae finally slips his dick inside: hot and huge, cracking him open, touching him somewhere deep. When he moves it's like continents moving, being pushed apart by the ocean.

"You feel so good," Yoonjae says, slamming into him. He tells him that he's so hot, that he's like a dream, that he's better than any girl. He says that he's going to fuck him all night, that he could stay inside him forever, that he thinks about this every day. "Joonhee," he gasps.

When Joonhee tells him to fuck him harder, Yoonjae does.

The pot hanging on the wall above them rattles in time to his thrusts.

Yoonjae, Yoonjae, Yoonjae. Joonhee says his name. He'd do anything for him, and at night, when he's alone, he tells him as much. _Anything_ , he says between thrusts, choking on the air.

But Yoonjae leans down and tells him no.

"No," he says. He thrusts in deep, igniting fireworks in the pit of Joonhee's stomach. "I don't need anything else."

Yoonjae lays over him, and puts his mouth against his ear.

"I just want you."

When Joonhee comes, it's painful, torn from him. (Later he will try to deny that the pain makes it better.) He lets out a strangled sound, and feels the hot splatter of semen across his stomach, physical evidence of his catharsis. Because when it's done he feels empty, and he's not sure if it's good.

As he wipes himself clean with an old t-shirt, he tells himself that was the last time. And maybe it will be, for a few days. But in the end he knows he'll just end up in the same place eventually: lying in the dark at night, alone.


End file.
